


Working Girl

by middlemarch



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, Vignette, Working Girl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 22:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11022915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: Rebecca can be a better friend.





	Working Girl

“Honey! This is Armani!” Paula exclaimed, touching the suit jacket as gently as she’d touched her firstborn’s cheek when they put him into her arms, before he started screaming. He had colic and didn’t quit for nearly 5 months, which was why the boys were spaced the way they were. Tommy had required lengthy negotiations and a case of cheap red wine (in boxes) to conceive.

“The Stella McCartney was too brash, you know? It has funky lapels. I didn’t think Sigourney Weaver, even adjusted for 2017, would have had anything that outrageous in her closet for Melanie Griffith to borrow-slash-steal. Or steal-slash-borrow? I don’t know, whatever,” Rebecca said, smiling, not wildly the way she did when it seemed like things were going well with Josh or uneasily, when it had to do with Greg, but widely and happily, like the gal-pal in the chick flick Paula wanted them to be in. Except Darryl would upstage every scene and be so sweet about it they couldn’t complain. To quote Rebecca, whatever. Paula Proctor in her mis-matched JC Penney pajamas and knock-off Ugg flip-flops had a lapful of Armani suit and Rebecca watching her like a hawk. 

“This is from your closet, though. Won’t you miss it?” It was beautifully designer, beautifully finished. Just beautiful and Paula could hardly believe Rebecca meant to give it to her.

“Nope. No way. I sort of had my fill of that kind of thing in New York, I’m a SoCal girl now, but you, you deserve it, Paula. I can’t get you Harrison Ford,” Rebecca said, pausing to sighing a little at the shared memory of Han Solo in a sharp suit carefully rumpled, with mustard at the corner of his mouth, then returning to her point. “But I can get you a real power suit and Darryl already got the shoes. Now, you just have to get the esquire.”

“I’m on it. Or I will be,” Paula said, sipping her mug of cooled English Breakfast tea. In the movie, there’d be a montage, but it was real life in West Covina, so there was just the hollering of Brendan playing a first-person shooter game and the kitchen timer reminding her the oven was pre-heated for some chicken dish she was too bored by to remember. The Armani suit called for something fancier, quality as Paula’s mother would have said.

“Brendan, order from Fondue Me! The triple, extra-spicy!” she shouted. Rebecca tilted her head and raised an eyebrow and shrugged, each gesture cancelling out the last but all suggesting a question. And that she hadn’t read the menu carefully enough when she herself had ordered the last time.

“They just put a jalapeno in with the cheese. Pepper jack doesn’t melt well,” Paula explained and Rebecca nodded. It all made sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been enjoying this show but writing a romance felt beyond me and I realized, I'd rather write about Rebecca and Paula anyway.


End file.
